The Fast and the Furious
by Lampito
Summary: She's black, she's sleek, she's beautiful - everything about the Impala hints at power, danger, and SPEED. He can't help it, he's a little bit in love.  A one-shot.


Silvereyed Queen asked what the gargoyles' equivalent of the Impala would be. Well, this, I guess…

**Disclaimer:** Just playing in the Kripke sandpit, but Zan and Tiem are mine. (If you'd like to write a story with them in it, just ask, I'm bound to say yes.)

**Title:** The Fast and the Furious

**Rating:** K+

**Summary:** She's black, she's sleek, she's beautiful - everything about the Impala hints at power, danger, and speed. He can't help it, he's a little bit in love. A story of Tiem and Zan, the gargoyles who guard Singer Salvage.

**Setting:** set any time after 'We'll Wing It'.

**Blame:** Lies squarely with all the Denizens of the Jimiverse who keep pestering for more about the gargoyles. And the ones who breed plot bunnies, fit them with sails and life jackets, and send them Down Here.

* * *

><p>Tiem watched. It was, after all, what gargoyles do. Nothing else knows quite how to sit still, and watch, like a gargoyle.<p>

He'd been watching since he was carved, since he was too young to fly, since he was too young to roost without mortar to help him stay in place. He watched every day, watched the yard for the man of Knowledge, watched the borders for the Guardian. He watched for danger, he watched for threats, he watched for breaches in the warding. And of course, he always had one eye out to watch his little brother.

However, he had never found himself wanting to watch a single object so intently before.

It was black. It was sleek. It - _she_ - shed scents redolent of having been torn from the earth, and formed from the raw elements. The noise she made was a deep rumbling that travelled through the ground as well as the air, and hinted at power, and veiled threats of danger, and made wicked promises of _speed_.

She belonged to two Hunters, brothers, who often visited the man of Knowledge, and often stayed. She was their conveyance, their car. Zan was always happy to detect her approach, because it meant that the tall one (with hair that made Tiem think of Zan's unruly lichen) would most likely spend time reading outside, happy to have the younger gargoyle peer over his shoulder at whatever book he was reading. Tiem was happy to detect her approach, because that would mean he would get to see her, and hear her, and smell her, and watch her.

He loved to watch her, this thing that was designed to go _fast,_ faster than any gargoyle could fly. She was… beautiful.

He even overcame his natural inhibitions about humans seeing him move, one day, when the other Hunter had just finished washing her, and a flock of pigeons, startled from the nearby shed roof, had taken wing directly overhead. Before he could think, Tiem was in the air, swatting the stinking, bird-brained, excreting flying rats out of the sky before they could foul the magnificent machine below. It wasn't until he glanced down and saw the man's face – a picture of bemusement as he stood by his car, dead pigeons raining down around him – that Tiem realised what he'd done, and returned bashfully to his roost.

Later that day, the Hunter had climbed up a ladder, and left a couple of cookies wedged at his feet.

So it wasn't surprising that, one night, on a routine flight across the yard, when Tiem spotted the small, rusting wheels in the tangle of junk, he had An Idea.

**oooooooooo OOOOOOOOOO oooooooooo**** oooooooooo OOOOOOOOOO oooooooooo**

"I'm really not sure if this is safe, Tiem," commented Zan, eyeing his brother's work dubiously.

"Oh, come on Zan," wheedled Tiem, bending a couple of spokes so that they were almost straight, "It'll be fun! It'll go really fast!"

"If you want to go fast, why don't you just fly, and do a vertical dive?" asked Zan.

"This is a different sort of going fast," Tiem told him, "Like _her_, the… Impala." He smiled as he spoke; even the word describing her tasted good. "This is going fast on wheels, without having to do anything."

"Maybe we should check with the man of Knowledge," suggested Zan.

"It's all junk over there, I asked the Guardian," Tiem answered dismissively, stepping back to admire his work. The rusting wheelbase of an old-fashioned pram, its wheels stripped of their perished tyres and bent carefully back into shape by stone talons, sat invitingly before them. "Come on, help me drag it up the hill."

They positioned it on the edge of the descent, and climbed aboard.

"I'm sitting in front, because I'm driving," specified Tiem, "And you'll only cause wind resistance, because you're an overtgrown troll."

"What do we do now, Tiem?" asked Zan a bit anxiously.

"You give us a bit of a push off," instructed Tiem, "Then, we drive!"

A few strong flaps from Zan's wings, and the pram base moved forward, and rolled down the hill.

It only went about halfway down as it veered to the right and slowly tipped over.

"Wow, that was fast!" remarked Zan in amazement.

Tiem was frowning. "We need a way to make it go where I want," he decided, "We need to make it steer."

A piece of rope tied to the front wheels later, they were ready for another try. It tracked straighter this time.

"It's amazing," mused Zan, spinning a wheel and watching it, "How these wheel things pick up speed as you go."

"Too bouncy, too bouncy," muttered Tiem, still unhappy with his vehicle's performance. He frowned thoughtfully at the wheel base. "I think we need to, sort of, squash these springy things, a bit," he said, compacting a spring easily with arms of stone, "You go and get some grease, that'll make the wheels go faster…"

Tiem tweaked his suspension, then lubed the axles, his brother watching.

The next run saw them go whizzing down the hill much faster. It was probably just as well that humans were unable to hear gargoyle voices, because Tiem's yodel of delight and Zan's squawk of fright would have woken anyone trying to sleep in the surrounding environs. As it was, Zan launched himself skyward when the conveyance was three-quarters of the way down the hill, and watched anxiously as Tiem rode it the rest of the way down, before it tipped over again.

"Tiem!" he called, landing next to his brother. Tiem was grinning madly, chuckling with glee.

"Now, that was fast!" he laughed. "You're such a sissy, Zan, bailing out like that."

"I think you should stop now, Tiem," Zan told him cautiously, "It really did go very fast that time."

"Exactly!" exclaimed Tiem in triumph. "I'm getting it right! Now, I think one of the wheels might still be a bit bent, and maybe we can pull some pieces off to make it lighter…"

"I'm not riding on that thing again, Tiem," stated Zan, "It's not safe."

"Oh, Zan, it's just starting to get fun!" Zan pulled his gravelpuss expression, and Tiem rolled his eyes. "Oh, go on, then, go and be about as much fun as Brother Anton copying out yet another psalter. I'm going to make some more improvements…"

Zan tried to talk his brother out of his experimentation as his brother compressed the springs some more, adjusted spokes, greased axles and pulled off what he deemed to be extraneous bits.

"This time it will go really, really fast!" grinned Tiem. "Especially without you to slow me down like a galleon's main sail."

"Tiem, I think this might be a really, really bad idea," began Zan, as his brother dragged the wheel base back to the top of the hill, and lay down on it, paying him no attention.

Tiem wrapped his hind claws around a small tree, and began to flap his wings. "Vroom vroom!" he shouted, letting go and pulling his wings in tight.

The wheel base, springs compressed as far as they'd go and given a starting boost, shot forward, travelling much faster with its lighter payload and more streamlined profile. It hurtled down the hill at breakneck speed.

"Tiem! Tiem! It's too fast! Let go!" shouted Zan, wringing his claws with worry as his brother zoomed down the hill.

"Yeeheeeeeeeeeeee!" yelled Tiem. It was a completely different feeling to flying – the air rushed past, with no effort from him. It was _amazing._

Right up to the point where one rusting wheel, barely solid enough to hold its shape, bounced sharply off an errant rock. Except it couldn't 'bounce', because the elderly springs had been compressed past the tensile limits humans had ever anticipated a device for transporting infants would require. The conveyance dropped suddenly to the left, travelling over a small, upward jutting ridge of soil, just as the springs decided they weren't getting paid enough to be that stressed out, and recoiled with a _sproinggggg_ noise that would've been considered comical in a cartoon.

"Yeeheeeeeeeeeee eeeeaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaAAAAAARRR….. "

Tiem's yell of excitement turned to one of bewilderment as the springs launched the wheelbase off the ground. It shot past a horrified Zan, with his brother clinging to it in confusion.

"…RRRRRGH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII…"

Gravity suddenly looked sharply in Tiem's direction, and demanded to know what the hell he thought he was doing. The pram base hit the ground, and bounced, hopping like a demented wheeled metal kangaroo.

"Let go, Tiem, LET GO!" urged Zan.

"…IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!" howled Tiem, still clutching the wildly bucking, bouncing wheel base.

Gravity finally decided it wasn't going to take any of That Sort Of Thing – the front axle collapsed, the springs sprang, and Tiem was catapulted into a tree.

"Tiem! Tiem!" Zan landed next to his brother, who was slowly picking himself up. "Tiem! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Zanny," mumbled Tiem happily, eyes crossing slightly. "That was… that was…" he fished around for a word that would describe his driving adventure. "That was… awesome!"

"Can you get up?" asked Zan.

"Of course," replied Tiem, taking his brother's outstretched arm and rolling upright, "In fact, I think I have an idea to make it go even faster, if I can just…"

Zan's horrified gasp stopped him mid-sentence. "What?" he asked, confused.

Zan was apparently unable to speak, so he just pointed.

Tiem looked down. Even with his brain addled by impact with a tree, he was able to take in the seriousness of the damage.

"Oh dear," he said quietly. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear."

Then he fainted.

**oooooooooo OOOOOOOOOO oooooooooo**** oooooooooo OOOOOOOOOO oooooooooo**

"I don't suppose I really want to know how this happened," said the man of Knowledge the next day, as he mixed up a batch of his gargoyle-repairing ceramic cement. "And if you could tell me, I probably would regret askin'."

Bobby would never have thought that a gargoyle would be capable of blushing, but the older gargoyle was somehow managing to look utterly shamefaced and mortified. In fact, it put him very much in mind of the expression Dean had worn, many years ago, when he had managed to get a splinter in a place that required a minor medical intervention and a very very delicate touch…

The younger one was standing next to his brother, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but his eyes were pointedly averted. The expression on his face was as close to a Sam Winchester bitchface as he'd ever seen on a face that didn't belong to Sam Winchester.

"You were lucky it broke off cleanly, in a single piece," continued Bobby as he worked. He was sure he saw the damaged gargoyle's face actually get greyer as he drilled a hole for a reinforcing pin. "Whatever it was," he said, trying to sound serious, "I suggest you don't do it again. You understand?" The gargoyle gulped nervously, and nodded.

Bobby pinned and cemented the broken appendage in place. "There," he said, satisfied with the repair, "That will mend, like your wing, but the cement takes time to cure completely. So don't… do anything with it for two days." He seemed about to say something else, then changed his mind, sighing and shaking his head. "Idjits," he muttered, "I'm surrounded by idjits. Okay, then," he smiled as he wiped his hands on a rag, and took two cookies out of a bag, "You take these, and go roost. Stay out of trouble, now, mind what I said about not doing… anything with it."

The gargoyles took their cookies, bowed their thanks, and flew back to their positions on top of the gate pillars.

**oooooooooo OOOOOOOOOO oooooooooo**** oooooooooo OOOOOOOOOO oooooooooo**

Tiem sighed sadly again. "I was doing so well," he mused, "I think it was probably the springs that caused the problem, I heard a definite 'sproing' sort of noise before it launched…"

Zan humphed, gravelpuss evident. "Tiem, you cannot possibly be thinking about doing that again? After what you did to yourself? The man of Knowledge said not to!"

"I won't, I won't," agreed Tiem, clearly sad that his budding driving career had been nipped in the bud before it even started. "But it was fun, Zanny. You have to admit, it was fun! It went so _fast_…"

"Right up until you nearly converted yourself into an Earth Mother figurine," replied his brother tartly. "Gargoyles were never meant to travel on wheels, Tiem. That's why we're carved with wings."

"I suppose you're right," Tiem sighed. He looked down, pleased to see that the man of Knowledge had done another sterling repair job, and his most magnificent feature was unmarred.

Zan peered out across the yard. "Can you see something over there?" he asked. Tiem squinted, and followed the line of his brother's talon.

"Hmmmm," he mused, "Probably just a dog or a squirrel, but we should check it out. I just have an errand to run. This will only take a few minutes." He took off, headed for the front of the house.

"Hey!" Zan called after him, "Remember what the man of Knowledge said! Don't… do anything!"

"I won't Zan," Tiem reassured him, "I won't." In fact, it was that matter he was going to deal with. He took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders.

Somehow, he had to explain to a rather demanding garden gnomess why he would have to cancel their date tonight.

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><p>You can see pictures (honest-to-Cas fanart!) of Zan and Tiem, done by a couple of Denizens of the Jimiverse, at:<p>

http COLON SLASH SLASH leah-elisabeth DOT livejournal DOT com SLASH 1088 DOT html - for leahelisabeth's portraits of them, and at

http: SLASH SLASH rince1wind DOT livejournal DOT com/29391 DOT html - for Bartlebead's rendition of the Jimiverse's most adorable gargoyles.

Reviews are the Aftermarket Exhaust Notes on the Engine Of Life!


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